The Mrs Waverly Affair
by Svetlanacat
Summary: Illya had been required to present himself to Waverly's office, leaving Napoleon alone.


"Tell me what happened!"

Napoleon Solo stood in the doorway of his office, unshaved, his hair unusually tousled, his jacket unusually rumpled and stained with unidentified stuff, his shirt gaping at the neck, a typewriter ribbon on his shoulder, like a streamer. Plus... he was obviously in a very, very bad mood.

The young woman muttered something and slipped away in a split second. Napoleon brushed down his jacket angrily, looking daggers at the deserted hallway which didn't mind.

He had just waken up awkwardly slumped onto his chair. Papers scattered over his desk and a pile of files were challenging him to a lopsided fight.

He frowned at the memory. They were about to make a start on unfinished reports and "Mr. Kuryakin" had been required to present himself to Mr. Waverly's office. "Mr. Solo would "of course" cope with the expected reports...

Illya had pushed his own pile towards Napoleon with one of his most insufferable face, the apologetically-angelic one and had vanished into thin air, leaving his partner to the clutches of a merciless typewriter.

4 am. 4 am? Napoleon Solo shook his head, went back to his restroom in order to refresh himself.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

The cafeteria was amazingly deserted. The lady -Emma? Lena? Heather?- had served him with his coffee and disappeared in the back room. What the hell was going on?

The beep of his communicator gave him a start. Lisa's voice scolded him harshly, "Mr. Solo -Mr. Solo? Not "Napoleon"?- you were scheduled at 4 pm! You're late!"

"Sor..." Napoleon paused and articulated at the deaf communicator "...ry." while racing towards his chief's office.

Waverly's secretary tapped her foot with impatience. "Hurry, Napoleon, she's waiting for you!"

"She... She?"

But Lisa had already pushed him in the office.

Illya was sitting at the round table, relaxed, smartly dressed...

"I was told you were a responsible man, Mr. Solo."

The voice was both familiar and unexpected. Napoleon turned to the woman. She stood next to the screens, her black hair put into a very austere bun. She wore an as austere gray suit, though stylish, with the N°1 ID. Green eyes were studying him thoroughly, her nose quivering at his slightly casual appearance.

The woman was both familiar and unexpected.

Mrs Waverly.

A quite amazing version of Mrs Waverly, far from the kind, easy going, quite motherly woman he knew with her colored clothes and her hair tied in an uncertain bun.

"Mr. Solo, you're gaping."

She came back to the table. Illya sprang on his feet, pulling up her chair which earned him a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Kuryakin. Mr. Solo? Do you intend to stay like that?"

"But..." Napoleon Solo peeped at his partner, vainly seeking for help. The blond Russian had his angelic inscrutable face...

Mrs Waverly sighed. "Mr. Solo, Alexander had to attend a very important meeting. He'll be away for awhile and asked me to stand in for him."

"You... You're kid... I mean, it's a joke, madam... You..."

Mrs Waverly frowned. "Mr. Solo, I'll make it known that I am not the ordinary housewife you think I am." She stared at him. "Alexander and I met at the university. Then when UNCLE got in touch with me, I told them about Alexander. We attended Survival School together and we were qualified as Section 2 agents. Both of us, young man." She was tapping a file in front of her. " Mr. Kuryakin, this is for you. Mr. Solo will come with me."

The Russian smiled, picked up the file, kissed the lady's hand and left the office.

"Mr. Solo, you're gaping again! Come on."

In the HQ hallways, everybody greeted the lady respectfully. They didn't look like to be surprised neither by the lady's appearance nor by her n° 1 ID.

"Mr. Solo? The door, please."

He realized that they had made their way towards one of the HQ meeting room. Mrs Waverly raised an inquiring eyebrow and he opened the door, muttering an apology.

"HAPPY APRIL FOOLS' DAY!"

The room was crowded. Agents, secretaries, technicians... Del Floria and his wife... Alexander Waverly, Illya... The long table was covered with cakes, chocolate fish...

The woman next to him burst into laughter, took his arm and dragged him towards his husband. With her other hand, she freed her hair. Alexander Waverly held out a glass of champagne to his agent.

"Had a nice day, Mr. Solo?"

Obviously the Old Man was enjoying himself; So did the Russian. Mrs Waverly turned to him, pointing her finger at him. "You're irresistible, Napoleon Solo , but you needed to be taught about women..." Then she caught his glass and blinked at him.

"I told my auntie about you, dear Napoleon..." A charming brunette craned her neck.

He knew her. She was Alexander Waverly's niece. She was...

The brunette sighed.

"Maud, Napoleon."


End file.
